Fire Flower
by Ink-Tainted
Summary: SI/AU! I watched her dance, and I resolved to be as graceful, and as capable, as her. To quietly protect, to unobtrusively support, and to persevere without losing myself. To change a broken world with a second chance.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

I don't remember what happened. How I was suddenly ripped from everything I knew and thrust in an impossible reality. What I _do_ remember is the keener sensation of being born for the second time. Truthfully, it is now but a blending of sensations and feelings, like the cold, cold air hitting my skin and the, by contrast, warm hands securing linen clothes around me, warming, but irritating all the same. I remember the moderate sound of Hahaue's voice, rising above all the controlled chaos around me to gently shush my whimpers.

In the subsequent months, I was terrified. Time here blurs in a never-ending cycle of trying to understand what had happened and crying out for something _familiar_. There was nothing, and I couldn't begin to comprehend why I was with this woman and where I was being kept.

I had no control over my body. My motor skills were poor at best, and I was overwhelmed by everything around me. The simple act of breathing in the cold, with a soft undercurrent of paper and old wood, air of my new house was a novelty. Every texture was maximized against my skin, every noise stunning and confusing to my unaccustomed hearing. My sight, though, was rather abysmal when compared to my other senses, and I hardly could make sense of anything around me… Except, maybe, for the caring face of Hahaue, her beautiful visage filling my world from then onwards.

In those days, she slowly became the solid point in my changed existence. Her voice, her warmth, her eyes... That strange woman would give me everything in every touch and action. I couldn't stop the growing feeling of familiarity and dependence that sprout during the early weeks of my stay at that strange house and stranger situation.

I had two older siblings, which was an innovation all in its own. I didn't know their names, and they weren't exactly excited by the new addition to the family. I admit it would be months before I could differentiate between them; both had fair skin and black eyes and hair. Besides, they weren't interested in me, so they kept away. But after some time I could hear them playing through the open window, always talking loud and laughing with each other. They were close, apparently, and I was the intruder.

I was perhaps four months old when I finally met the man that I would later identify as my Chichiue. He wasn't a physically intimidating man, being lean and wiry instead of muscled and big, but there was something in his eyes… He is a cold person with dead eyes, it's what I thought that night, when that stranger entered my room. He walked in utilitarian steps and all his movements were precise and curt, somewhat jerky in their execution.

He didn't touch me, just… Looked. I observed him warily from my niche of silky fabric, not moving an inch while we were engaged in that staring contest. I would soon learn that it wasn't a wise decision to start any sort of contest with that man.

He turned just as abruptly to Hahaue and spoke in a loud, rough voice that startled me. It was a voice to bark orders in a battlefield, not to be contained inside four walls, and it filled my living quarters. _He_ filled the whole room with his forceful presence. Hahaue was a soft contrast to him, all demure tones and delicate, well-rounded words. She spoke slowly, as if choosing with carefulness her words, and I realized she didn't care much for this man's temper, either. It made me more afraid of him than anything else he could have done at the time.

He frowned in response, turning his endless gaze to me once again, making me hold my breath. At least, he made a dismissive sound and, with a careless gesture of a scarred hand, he left. I think both Hahaue and I gave a sigh of relief when he stormed out. Strangely enough, he, contrary to all his other attitudes, didn't make a sound even when stepping on the old tatami floor.

I avidly watched Hahaue move to close the door. She was his complete opposite. She was calm and collected, and she _glided_ through the floor, her whole bearing a composition of dance movements, every gesture that ended sliding smoothly into the next. Hahaue didn't make a sound when walking, either, something that I only noticed at the time. The only sound was of her colorful clothes rustling against each other, her tightly bound hair in an elaborate hairstyle that didn't allow even the long tresses that much liberty.

I watched her dance to the door and close it with graceful, liquid gestures, the wood making a sibilant sound that appeared louder than it was in reality. That exact moment, more than every other, would mark me for a long time. I wanted to move that way. I wanted to be as elegant as Hahaue. I wanted to have beautiful adornments weaved through my hair, tinkling softly with every nod. I wanted to be as lovely as her, with her slanted, deep eyes, and her tranquil expression, like nothing could ever make her loose her patience.

She was my role model, and would stay as such for many years to come.

* * *

By around my sixth month I discovered Hahaue was pregnant again. That was… Unexpected. There were three kids running around already, even if my older brothers were more of toddlers and required considerable less attention than me. But apparently, they had their own caretaker, a woman older than Hahaue that helped with them, leaving her to take care of myself and, it now appeared, my soon to be younger sibling.

I also could already sit without help and look around more. I didn't have many toys to play with, but they were strange when compared to my old life's memories. They were wooden toys, rustic and obviously hand-made, and the majority of them were made for development of motor skill and hand-eye coordination. They didn't impress me much, and to my old brain they were easy and senseless. I lost interest one or two weeks later.

I preferred to spend time with Hahaue, even if through the months she couldn't take me in her arms anymore, with her growing belly getting in the way. It didn't matter. I would sit against her warm body, half-hidden by her silken dresses, and watch the world from our porch, her limb hand carding through my rather messy and unruly hair, undoing the many knots that appeared with frequency.

I wasn't having much luck in truly getting the new language spoken around me, even if now I recognized many of the words and could even connect them to objects. Nevertheless, my primary means of understanding was still the interpretation of the speaker's tone of voice and expression. I learned my name at that time, which was interesting. I think Hahaue was worried about my lack of experimentation with my underdeveloped vocal cords, so one afternoon she just sat with me and went through a lot of easy words, including my name. I discovered my name was Uchiha Kazumi.

Obviously, I was horrified by it. I _knew_ the name Uchiha. When in my other life, one of my few hobbies had been read this manga, where everyone had the chance to be strong and make the difference. To discover I was _in it_ was something distressing, indeed. And what is more, I didn't know at what point in the timeline I was, except that in a near future my new family was going to be killed by Uchiha Itachi.

I guess I should have been more worried about the fact that I was in a world with _ninjas_, but my priorities had changed the moment I realized this _was_ my reality now, and that living, breathing people – people that now were part of my life – were going to die. I won't lie, I never thought about how horrible Naruto's world was, or how sick the shinobi system could be. I not even thought about the old dilemma: to be a ninja or not. It just seemed distant somehow, so far away from Hahaue's protective arms. I resolved to wait and see, to assess the situation. I didn't have all the necessary information to be making life-changing decisions. I was a baby, and I was going to stay that way for some months still.

But from that day on I started to notice things. Like the games my older brothers would play, all of them involving some kind of hide and seek with pointy objects or stage fights with lots of sound effects. They loved it, but once in a while, when Chichiue was home and watching over us all like a sinister shadow guardian, he would correct the way they moved with some pointed words. It was with a shiver of unease that I deduced he was preparing them for their training, when it was time.

We lived in a closed off house, with a wall encircling the property, but some people would always come to talk to Chichiue, or even Hahaue, though it was rare. I began to pay attention to the way they moved and their garments. The majority of them were male, all with dark eyes and hair, and a certain dangerous, silent way to move that sent alarm bells through my head. It was in their eyes, in the tensing of their shoulders when a louder sound would surge, in the way they always ran their hands through their waists, searching for their weapons. They were shinobi, and these weren't times of peace.

Now that I was allowed more time outside, I tried to discern landmarks of the Village, but, to my shock, there wasn't any. There were mountain ranges, for sure, in the distance, but the buildings weren't tall and I never saw the Hokage Mountain, even when I fussed to be taken in a tour around our courtyard of beaten earth. Didn't matter the direction I turned my head, I still couldn't see it. It sent a jolt of cold fear through my stomach, and made me restless and nauseated. _Where_ was I? _When_ was I?

After observing the structures of the houses and the way my family and our visitors were dressed, I reached the unpleasant conclusion that I was, in fact, born before the creation of Konohagakure no Sato. This meant we were in war with… Everyone. Now the tense atmosphere and the agitated shinobi made sense. It was the Warring States period, and every stranger was a potential threat.

The only lingering doubt in my mind was how much time it would be before Madara was made Clan Head and united the Senju and Uchiha Clans to form the first Hidden Village. I hoped it was soon, because despite all my comforting thoughts – the most common of them involving my cold-blooded father and his careless display of skill and killing intent –, I didn't have any kind of reassurance about what could happen to Hahaue, and even my distant brothers.

* * *

When I was eleven months old, my younger brother was born. That day, Hahaue didn't come to pick me up in the morning. Instead, Chinatsu-san, my brothers' caretaker, was the one that roused me and took me to the bathroom for a clean change of clothes and some warm water.

I immediately began to worry about Hahaue, fussing and whimpering and just making the caretaker's job more complicated. When I refused my breakfast and just made more of a ruckus, Chinatsu-san made an exasperated sound before lifting me to eye level and stating in a slow and put-upon voice:

"Hush, child. Your mother is fine." At this point she sat me down and just put some more mashed, soft food in my mouth. My vocabulary had improved greatly since my sudden arrival, but I was from mastering my new language. Though I was grateful when she kept talking, I couldn't understand her mumblings.

I thought about possible reasons for Hahaue's absence. She _was_ rather big now, but I didn't have a firm enough grasp on the passage of time to determine how many months she still had until the birth of the baby. It was possible she was giving birth that day, though. More possible than her being sequestrated… It was just as likely, though, that she had had complications and was indisposed, which made me distressed all over again, because medicine at that time was something nearly inexistent, especially in a Clan specialized in combat, like us.

The only thing that made me stop from worrying myself out of my mind was the surprise of being led outside by my new caretaker. It was beginning to get colder and colder with each passing day, and I knew winter was coming, just like when I was born.

Chinatsu-san took me to the porch's edge and helped me sit before doing the same. She swept the courtyard with narrow eyes and I thought for a moment that she was looking for some suspicious movement or object, but her piercing eyes paused when they reached a point near the wall, half-hidden by a large pile of grain sacks.

"Masaru, Ayumu!" she barked, making all of us jump. My brothers turned with slow motions from their work, and took an anxious look at the old lady. When they approached us with wariness she continued with an intimidating expression, her scow marking her large forehead: "What are you doing?"

"Ano… Nothing," gulped the one on the right. That was Ayumu, I was happy to know for sure, now. He was like Chichiue, tall and with a somewhat straight hair, even if his short cut made it stand a little on end.

"Nothing?" repeated Chinatsu-san, her eyes narrowing even more. She turned like a hawk to Masaru, her expression pinching some more. "Obocchama, you are the older brother and you are Clan Heir. I would've thought you would by now understand what it entails. You are a role model to the other children of the compound and must demonstrate good and respectful behavior; besides, you must show the Elders that you are fit to, one day, rule this Clan. I assure you, Obocchama, that you will not achieve either by acting childishly and letting yourself be led by your own brother to play _pranks_ on the hardworking people. Or must I remember you the consequences of the _last_ one?"

It was an impressive piece of scolding, but it held my attention more by the information contained in it. She had called Masaru, _Clan Heir_. How was it possible? I thought Madara was the child of Clan Head Tajima, and his rightful heir. Why was _Masaru_ the Clan Heir? Unless… Well, there could be two explanations. One, I was part of the _current_ leading branch, and Madara or even his father – if he was still alive – would take the power. Or two: I was the third daughter of Uchiha Tajima and therefore sister of Uchiha Madara.

The problem with that was that I didn't have a way to make sure of any of my theories. I hadn't discovered my father's name, and I didn't know the name of Madara's three older brothers. What also intrigued me about it was the fact that I was a girl. I might have been wrong, but I was almost sure that Madara had three other _brothers_, besides Izuna. That made things even more complicated, because it meant that I couldn't have much faith in my recollections of canon material. Also, if I _was_ part of Uchiha Madara's family… Where was _him?_

"You…" Ayumu's growl interrupted my line of thought, startling me with his raging young face. He was very expressive, and his eyes _burned_ with his emotions. Masaru shot his arm in front of Ayumu's chest, barring his advance before it even started.

"No, Chinatsu-san. I don't think it will be necessary. I understand your preoccupations and will strive to reach my Clan's expectations," Masaru said, surprising me. He had a soft voice, still high due to his young age, but his eloquence was astounding. He was small with Ayumu at his side, lean, with long bangs framing his round face. While Ayumu had some kind of boyish charm to him, Masaru was just plain adorable. But he had a seriousness in his expression that unnerved me; I could imagine him with ease growing up to have Chichiue's void black eyes.

It made me mourn his loss, because I knew it would be the kind of thing expected and _required_ by our father. I knew he was older than me by at least five solid years, if not more. Soon, Chichiue would start training him to lead our Clan in battle and in all other instances.

Chinatsu-san snorted and kept her hawk-eyes on Ayumu, but nodded her head in a grave way, like what Masaru said was of some great importance. I failed to see it as such, worried by the pressure being put in my still very young older brother, but refrained from any kind of comment. Not that at eleven months I had such astounding control of my facial and tongue muscles. I gurgled and spewed nonsense at best, but I _did_ like to try it from time to time, just to watch Hahaue's delighted expression.

Quite suddenly she raised and sternly talked to my brothers, in a way to fast and brusque for my burgeoning skills at the language to follow, so I just listened attentively for a word I may have recognized and watched Ayumu's expression for some kind of cue. I didn't try to do the same with Masaru – he would require more detailed observation to decipher his apparent peculiar minimalist way of expressing his emotions.

Ayumu had a petulant sneer on his face when she turned to go inside, briefly checking to see if I was sitting securely atop the wooden steps, resting against one of the thick pillars maintaining the tilting roof. I was, and with a last warning of "behave!" to my older brothers, she was gone.

I turned to Masaru and Ayumu and we stared at each other, unsure of what exactly do with our unexpected bonding time.

"Maybe we could let her there?" suggested Ayumu, crossing his arms and glaring at me like I was the reason for all his poor luck. Masaru's answer was to hit him in the head, making he lost his balance. "Hey, what was that for?"

"Don't be stupid, we can't let a baby alone on the porch," he said in a fairly reasonable voice, even if his advance towards me was stilted and he clearly had no idea of what to do with me. Ayumu grumbled but followed his lead, warily stepping closer, like I was some kind of wild animal. It made me laugh a little, startling both of them.

"Is she making fun of us? Because she sounds like she's making fun of us," Ayumu frowned, looking down at me. Masaru regarded me in silent contemplation, turning his head to the right, his long hair obscuring one disturbingly perceiving eye.

"I think she understands what we're saying."

"Che, _I_ think she's probably retarded. See the way she doesn't even look around? Hey! What was _that_ for?"

I laughed again at their antics, bringing attention once again to me and breaking their staring contest. Masaru sat in front of me in a proper _seiza_ position with a natural grace that made me associate him with Hahaue.

"Kazumi-chan," he called, effectively making me pay attention to his next words. He smiled when he noticed it, but instead of continuing he turned to Ayumu. "See? She understands."

"Huh, big deal. So we have another genius in the family. I don't care, you're better," my second brother replied, making a point of turning his nose up and crossing his arms once again. His face was arrogant and disdaining, and not as innocent or as childish as I thought it would be. His words were callous and make me wonder if he felt envious of Masaru's obvious intelligence and my apparent intellect.

But Masaru only laughed quietly and moved to sit by my side, encircling me with one protective arm.

"I don't think so. Hahaue said that Kazumi-chan should start to understand a few words from now on. It's just her name," he reassured, but it contradicted his earlier words, and it gave me the impression that it was just for Ayumu's benefit. It was nice and comforting to know that Masaru looked out so much for Ayumu, because it could mean that one day he would do the same for me.

"What are we going to do now?" Ayumu asked, trying to disguise his somewhat satisfied face. Masaru hummed in doubt before smiling slightly and reaching inside his yukata for something. He held it up for our inspection and Ayumu groaned and sat heavily, pouting and pointedly looking away. I examined the simple piece of dirty white paper in Masaru's hands with a frown, trying to decipher what about it could be so offensive to Ayumu.

"I don't want to practice. Shishou isn't here, anyway," he grumbled.

I kept looking at it, trying to understand how a piece of paper could help a shinobi in training, until Masaru perceived my stare and, ignoring the degrading snort coming from Ayumu, explained it to me.

"This is for training your chakra. You use it this way," he said, sticking the piece of paper to his forehead with his index finger, making me laugh at his crossed eyes following his own movements. I didn't laugh when he let go and the paper was kept in place by some invisible force. He made a concentrated frown for a moment longer before turning his eyes to me and opening a wide, proud smile. "See? It's harder than it looks."

"Yeah, she understands everything," interrupted Ayumu, rolling his eyes.

"Don't be like this. She's smart," replied Masaru with an arrogant tilt of his chin. It made me feel good, to know he was proud _of me_. No one had ever been proud of me, except for Hahaue. And most of the time she was worried about my lack of progress toward normal baby milestones.

"Whatever. Give me that," Ayumu extended his hand with impatience, demanding the scrap.

"You can't do it, baka," laughed Masaru, quickly taking the paper off his head and leaning back, away from our brother's reaching hand. Ayumu blushed in response, two red splotches in his cheeks against the paleness of his skin.

"Can do!" he cried out, in such an immature manner that it made me laugh again, making me start to guess at his age. Maybe he had appeared so much older than me because of my lack of familiarity with children. I never could guess their age, I was horrible at it. He turned to me with a brewing storm in his eyes.

"Here, take it. It's not like it will hurt you to try, anyway," intervened Masaru, sensing that it wasn't fair to let his baby younger sister suffer the wrath of one Uchiha Ayumu, vengeful little brat. I hope, at least.

Still grumbling, Ayumu took the paper and copied Masaru's earlier actions, but kept his finger for a longer time and his frown didn't waver. His face was all scrunched up in childish concentration and beads of sweat began to roll down his forehead. But after maybe some minutes, when he let it go, the paper fluttered to the floor, swaying with the gentle morning breeze.

"Damn it!" he snarled, but before he could sweep the scrap aside with an angry move of his hand, Masaru collected it in an incredible demonstration of speed, smirking when our brother shot him a dark glare.

"You lack patience, otouto," he drawled, turning his palm to the floor and showing his proficiency when the paper didn't move from his stretched fingers. I giggled, delighted by the easy way they were interacting in front of me. Never before had they made an effort to include me in their brotherhood. I knew it came from their young age and the fact that, as a girl, I was considered alien to them; besides, I could understand their resentment of me, for stealing Hahaue's attention. I confess I felt the same, when I thought about the newborn that would surely take her from me for many months.

Masaru turned to me with the same wide, disarming grin of before, extending the paper in my direction, "Want to try?"

I tried to reach for it with all the possible grace allowed by my more and more coordinated motions, but the paper still wrinkled between my too thick fingers. I was familiarized with long, lean pianist fingers, made even more elegant by constant practice, not baby chubby hands.

"Now, you have to _feel_ the chakra inside your body. You have to feel it moving around, beating with your heart, expanding with your breaths. And then…" Masaru stopped in what felt an imitative speaking pattern, the suspense of the pause unlike his normal style. I deduced he was probably quoting his Shishou, probably in the middle of a practical demonstration. "You have to gather it and stick it to the paper, so that it stays in place. But not with too much force, or it will rip! Nor with too little chakra, or it won't stay. Got it?"

I gave it a thought, trying to determine the probabilities of developing chakra manipulation at such a young age. I nodded with jerky movements of my head at him and copied their earlier actions, sticking the piece of paper to my forehead with clumsy movements and closing my eyes. The silence was total, and I realized even Ayumu was looking at me with expectant eyes.

The quiet stretched for long minutes, but I perceived two problems right away. The first, the paper covered the majority of my face, not only a specific point in my forehead, and it wasn't just annoying, but it increased the difficulty of the exercise as well; this alone made me doubt I would be successful, but the second reason – the fact that I couldn't even imagine how to begin my search for my chakra – was more than enough to convince me. Masaru's explanation wasn't helpful in that sense, but I tried to understand that he was just a child. He probably didn't know how hard it was for me.

"Hey, think she slept?" Ayumu's sudden comment broke the stillness, making me open my eyes startled when he yelped. Masaru was frowning at him, his hand still poised in case Ayumu's stupidity got out of hand once more. He turned to me again when he noticed my open eyes.

"No luck?" he asked with a sympathetic smile.

"Nah…" I tried to convey my utter disappointment, shaking my head. I stopped, tilting my head to one side in a blatant imitation of Masaru's adorable habit, when I noticed Ayumu was staring at me with an absorbed expression, not even blinking. It made me worry about his reaction to my clearly complete understanding of the situation, but he just closed his eyes for a moment before giving me a resigned look.

"It's okay, Kazumi. We'll get it for sure," he said, thumping his small fist on his thigh. "And then we will show aniki we're the best, eh?" he ended with a smirk in Masaru's direction.

"Um!" I made, nodding my head with enthusiasm, making Masaru laugh and thump the top of my head softly, with affection.

"I'll be waiting for you, but don't expect me to slow down," announced him with a haughty turn of his head, looking down on us behind thick dark lashes and a thin smile.

It just made us laugh harder, Masaru's soft chuckles mingling with Ayumu's raucous barks and my overjoyed, high laughter.

* * *

Much later, Chinatsu-san came back to take us to the room currently being used by Hahaue. The room was dark, all the shoji windows and doors were closed and the air was stale and smelling strongly of incense. But our curiosity was greater then the discomfort, so we entered the room.

Hahaue was in a futon with thick covers covering her exhausted frame, the crisp air of the approaching winter making the days colder. Her unbound hair was like a living being, coiled around her and hallowing her head in an unruly dark mess, her many tresses spreading in many different direction, creating a black mass that moved with a dry sound when she turned her head. I looked at it in wonder, thinking about my own crown of unmanageable mane and that in her it didn't make a difference, she was still beautiful.

I ran with unstable steps to her side, throwing myself above the comforter, next to her spent body, and looked anxiously at her face, searching for some kind of sign that there had been complications.

She raised her trembling hand, giving me a ghost of her usual smile, not being any less gentle and tender, and passed it through my tousled hair, her fingers catching in the knots formed by the outside wind.

"Hahaue!" exclaimed Ayumu, appearing at my side with a big, goofy grin, and huge dark eyes. Hahaue laughed at his excited way and, as if to calm him down, cradled his face, looking adoringly at him. Of course he wouldn't stay still enough for the moment to continue, so he weaved his little fingers around her hand and asked animatedly, "Where's it? Where's the baby? Is it a boy? A girl? It isn't a girl, is it? 'Cause Kazumi is fine!"

"Quiet, boy!" Chinatsu-san's growl and looming shadow seated behind Hahaue made me shiver, but Ayumu just shot her an annoyed glare. "Don't you see Kotone-sama is tired?"

I perked up at the name, rapidly looking at Hahaue's face. Her name was Kotone, then. I tried to remember if I had seen any mention of the name from before, but I couldn't be sure. I found that I was forgetting the trivial parts of the plot, and began to maintain my concentration on the essential points, or I risked loosing all my information.

"It's alright, Chinatsu-san. It's invigorating to have my children with me. It's a boy, Ayumu-kun," she said with tired eyes, her delicate voice carrying with some mysterious ease through the room, immediately silencing Chinatsu-san with a subtle hint of authority.

She turned to Masaru, next, and for the first time I understood Ayumu's reticence and vague envy toward him. That smile was everything – it was warmth, and safety, and tenderness, and care. He was the firstborn and the family pride, and in that moment it showed. Her eyes shone with how much she expected of him and what she was determined to pay to see him reach his full potential.

Maybe she never looked that way at me or Ayumu because we were too young. We had many possibilities and our potential was currently limitless, but we hadn't proved ourselves yet. And in a shinobi family and Clan, what you had to offer to add to its strength defined you and in many ways would appoint your status. Masaru was our better only because he already had training and because he was Clan Heir, but it didn't detract from the truth.

"Masaru…" she called softly, and he went to her side at once, sitting beside Ayumu but keeping his distance.

"Hahaue," Masaru greeted her with a polite nod. His eyes, though, were as adoring as I thought mine and Ayumu's were.

"Do you want to see the baby?" she asked, succeeding in including all of us in her peaceful expression. I nodded, smiling back at her.

"Sure!" exclaimed Ayumu.

"If you or the baby aren't too tired…" intervened Masaru, tugging at Ayumu's yukata in what he probably thought was a subtle gesture. But Hahaue just denied with her head, making the abundance of hair resting around her move.

"Chinatsu-san, bring him, please," she called, extending her hands to receive the grudgingly offered bundle of embroidered navy blue fabric. We leaned forward, curious. She turned the bundle, cradling it in such a way we could see the tiny, sleeping face inside.

"It's so small!" Ayumu yelled in a whisper, afraid to awake the baby.

The baby was small, yes, but also just… Perfect. The miniature noise fit perfectly with the soft pouting mouth and the barely there, but already dark, eyebrows. His round face was full of tranquility, and he slept on – safe, unaware of the attention he receive. Ignorant of his _fate_. I couldn't see much else, but I wanted to see all his fingers and toes, to see if this body was really as faultless as it looked.

Even Masaru came closer, looking at our younger sibling with interest. It must have been frightening to him to think that one day he would be responsible for all of us, but I had faith in him. And remembering the way Hahaue looked at him, she thought the same.

"Children, meet your younger brother. Uchiha Madara," she whispered, softly kissing his forehead.

To look at his face and think that that was the one that would be consumed by hatred and darkness in the future and as a result would attempt to destroy this world, was the first instance when this new reality resonated as if it was an illusion. It was a _baby_. It was my brother, Madara. The reason for Hahaue's joy and the rare sense of cohesiveness permeating that moment. We were family, and we were Clan, and it was apparent. But it seemed utterly ludicrous to think about that child as an evil being. He was just… Madara, our baby brother.

That instant, I resolved that I would protect him. Because, like Hahaue and Masaru, I knew his potential, I knew what he was capable of and how much more he could be. He had proved himself already, but he had lost so much, too. I felt a leaden kind of sadness grow inside me thinking about his bleak future, and I promised myself that I would see him reach his own true potential.

I looked at my older siblings and at Hahaue, all of them increasingly important to me, and I resolved to protect them too, as much as I could, to guard that feeling of _belonging_ and true happiness.

Thus, I began my journey in this new, wonderful, terrible world.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, and welcome! Thank you for giving this story a chance! I would like to ask something (well, two somethings actually) : first, English isn't my mother language, so any atrocious kind of butchering is there to be PICKED ON. Please, if you see some idiocy or even a minor error, I kindly ask that you point it out for correction. I don't have the necessary patience to properly proofread the chapters, so any help is welcome.**

**Ah! And second: I would like your opinion in the story's rhythm. You know, is it too fast, or too slow? I'm not saying the whole fanfic will have the same pace as the first chapter, but I'm kind of ****especially **insecure about this.

**R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I would like to thank you very much everyone who favorited and is now following this story. You make my day, guys, seriously :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

Madara stumbled to the ground and stayed there for a moment, blinking to the floor with a surprised expression. He had been trying to walk for some time now, and was Hahaue's nightmare, always falling and stumbling around, refusing anyone's help. I could see his future self already, and it amused me to see his affronted small face scrunched up.

I walked up to him and extended my hand to help him get up.

"No!" he shook his head vehemently and sat with his own effort. I huffed at him, impatient with his stubbornness.

"You know, it's easier if you accept help, Ma-chan," I informed him, squatting at his side. He just looked at me from his high ten months old and turned his attention to his current predicament: walk without leaning into anything.

I could understand Ayumu's churlish ways better and better, even if I refused to pass judgment on my own little brother. Ayumu just lacked any kind of tact to deal with a baby, and Ma-chan was certainly difficult enough for him without the added precociousness and the obvious prodigiosity.

I sighed when Madara finally figured out how to rise to his feet again, wobbling precariously but standing on his own all the same. He gave a victorious smirk in my direction before resuming his swaying trek through the porch, in the direction of the open fusuma panels.

"Hah! I win! See, aniki, you're not so great!" Ayumu's derisive laughter and loud shouts drew my attention to my older brothers. They were training with bokken that afternoon, with the grudging supervision of Souma-san, one of our older cousins. He had a broken arm and was out of the field until it was healed, so he had the dubious honor of looking after the Clan Head's children.

At that moment, Ayumu held our older brother at sword point, looming over him with a pleased expression. Souma-san appeared at his back and in a movement fluid like water Ayumu was on the floor, their instructor for the day scowling at him.

"Gloating on the battlefield will only get you a swift death… If you're lucky," he reproached. I approved of his lessons, even if his methods were too drastic in my opinion.

"Teme! I wasn't paying attention! It wasn't fair!" shouted Ayumu, his face slowly turning red with anger and embarrassment.

"Nii-san, watch your language!" I exclaimed something that Hahaue was always complaining about. Honestly, Ayumu-onii-san cursed more than the some of the Clan's hired mercenaries that sometimes took a day or two to restock at the compound.

"Kazumi-chan, you have to take my side!" he protested, pointing in my direction with his wooden sword. Souma-san immediately stepped on his wrist, making him yell in pain and let the sword fall.

"You never point a sword, if you're not going to use it," ranted our cousin, looking stressed. I asked myself for a moment how many eyes Ayumu-onii-san had almost taken with his stunts, now that he was allowed to carry his bokken around.

Of course Ayumu began to rage in response, disregarding the fact that Souma-san was triple his size and weight and his better in all shinobi arts. I huffed affectionately at the scene, already used to it.

"He doesn't change a bit, ne?" Masaru's voice startled me, and I looked to my left. He was in the process of sitting by my side, and it disturbed me that I hadn't notice his approach or any kind of noise until he had chosen to speak.

"No, but he's Ayumu-nii-san," I answered, smiling at him.

Recently, Chichiue was more present at home than ever before. He still spent a lot of time out, at the compound, supervising the men and having meetings with the Jounin or the spies. I knew because Hahaue liked to be kept informed, and she had her means in the form of the spouses. Many Jounin were actually the heads of other compounds, and in the rare times they came to Chichiue they would bring their spouses. Hahaue was their host, while the men discussed the war-effort and tactics; she always knew who was at the compound.

One of the greater changes that had occurred with Chichiue's close supervision was the family dynamics. Masaru was more and more pressured in his training, which in the last year had stepped up in difficulty. My brother, being who he is, kept up with easy, and currently was hailed as a prodigy. It broke my heart to see his infancy being slowly but surely killed in favor of the efficient soldier.

Ayumu, in some ways, had it worse. He didn't have the discipline required for the shinobi life, and lacked the maturity and focus to get better. He was constantly punished by our father for his loud and emotional ways. The only thing Chichiue hadn't anticipated was having his own obstinacy turned against him. Hahaue was the sole reason they hadn't killed each other, yet.

Madara and I didn't have the same problems. I was a girl and Madara was a baby, therefore useless in the foreseeable future for Chichiue. We spent a lot of time shadowing Hahaue or left to our own company, oversaw by the hawkish caretaker, Chinatsu-san.

A heavy thump broke our silent observation of Souma-san teaching nii-san the error of his ways, which translated in a heavy training session that would end with Ayumu-nii with bruises all over his body and a shimmering anger that threatened to explode on the next person to set his temper going. In many ways, our family was predictable, in that the response of our males was unexpectedly similar. I could see Madara doing it, as well.

Masaru and I turned to watch Madara sit, glaring at his own chubby legs.

"He's still at it?" mumbled Masaru to me, looking at Madara with laughter in his eyes.

"Um… Hahaue's worried," I answered, absentminded. I kept my words to a bare minimum. My vocabulary had definitely improved that last year and it was rare to not understand a word, but I still had difficulty coordinating my mouth and tongue muscles and sometimes the words came mangled by my faulty diction. Besides, I was considered intelligent and was many times compared to Masaru, but I didn't want to stand out _that_ much.

"You won't help him?" he asked, turning to me with a raised eyebrow.

"Madara is… Not easy," I replied diplomatically, making he snort with amusement.

"A true son of Uchiha Tajima, then," said Masaru. I turned to him, detecting the soft bitterness hidden in his voice. For the first time, I noticed the smudges under his eyes and the tired way his eyebrows creased.

"Something wrong, aniue?" I asked with worry. Masaru looked at me for a long moment, considering something, before turning away to look at the sky, inhaling the clean and crisp smell that the autumn winds brought from the surrounding forest.

"No, nothing. I'm sure it's going to be alright," he said, throwing his calm smile at me, the one that reminded me of Hahaue. It made me suspicious, but I didn't have a way to make him trust me and tell what was going on. The foreshadowing note in his voice, though, made a bad feeling surge in my stomach.

* * *

The house was in great uproar the next month. Something was happening, and it somehow affected all of us. Never before had we so many visitors, and it was surprising to see that many of them were women. They were always meeting in a section of the house specifically partitioned, it seemed, for that purpose. In my opinion, it had less to do with privacy, and more to do with Chichiue's peace of mind.

Madara and I had been definitely pushed to the side and these days we rarely saw Hahaue or even Chinatsu-san. Masaru and Ayumu continued their training regimen under Souma-san and, later, Chichiue. Our days were spent watching them and running around the house and making a nuisance of ourselves to the servants.

During that time, when we were each other's only company, we began to get closer. I would show him how to walk and the proper way to hold the chopsticks and he would create some exciting games for us. It wasn't an uncommon situation to be reprimanded for our house-wide machinations, many times involving sneaking around, procuring items that didn't belong to us or changing the placing of random objects without getting caught. Sometimes I caught myself thinking that Madara truly had been born to the shinobi life. He _was_, after all – and much to my shame –, much more adept at the games than I could ever hope to be.

Another point to the sneaking exercises was the need of escaping the tittering and gossiping women and Chichiue's temper, when he was at home. We learned pretty fast how to silently walk around our own house – the places you could step in without making a sound, the best routes through the corridors so that we could hide if needed, the right technique to slide fusuma and shoji without making a noise. It was something only we could do; not even Masaru or Ayumu knew about it.

It was on one of our "information gathering" games that we finally heard some truths about the odd feeling of unrest and excitement permeating the house.

We were tiptoeing around the sleeping quarters, easily listening to the maids walk around, cleaning the bedrooms, through the fusuma panels. It was one of the days to put the futons in the sun and beat the accumulated dust off them, so they were making enough noise that slipping past them was simple enough.

We had discovered that maids and servants in general were highly knowledgeable about their masters' lives and doings. It was the best way to be kept informed without prying, if you knew not to get caught. That is to say, _I _liked to know what was going on, and Madara just went along for the thrilling adventure; not that I could fault the boy in his disinterest. He still _was _a baby, after all, even if a sneaking, conniving, arrogant one. That day, two maids whose names I didn't remember were speaking while organizing Masaru's room.

"Did you hear? About the wedding?" one of them asked in a hushed and excited voice that made us stop in our tracks to listen; it was standard voice for gossiping maids.

"Of course! They say it will be lavish! I just hope it won't be held here, like the old hag was insisting. It would be complete chaos," answered the other.

I looked in Madara's direction and he returned my glance with a perplexed frown of his own. No, neither of us knew about any kind of wedding. We returned to our eavesdropping with renewed curiosity.

"I know!" huffed the other, a heavy thumping sound making listening to them a little more difficult. "That witch is terrible… Imagine having to suffer that woman's presence all the time till the wedding. I would trade with one of the cooking staff, that I would."

"Ne, ne, Mio-chan, did you see the bride? Weren't you the one that cleaned a room for her?"

I blinked rapidly at the new information, perplexed. So we had a guest, or maybe two, and I didn't even know about it. But, well, it _had_ been a little crowded in recent times; she could have easily slipped past our notice. It made me think about the quarters where the women congregated… Maybe she was sleeping there. It was the only place that Madara and I kept our distance from. And we wouldn't have met her at meals time, because we children ate separately from our parents when there were visits, like our house was full of, these days.

"Yes, she was so beautiful! She was a true princess!" gushed one of them, garnering my attention once more. "I can hardly believe she's Tajima-sama's sister, they're nothing alike. She's so sweet and kind!"

I leaned forward without thinking, intent on hearing some more, when I almost revealed our position with an undignified scream when Madara's little hand closed around my wrist and pulled with all the weight of an eleven months baby, stumbling to his feet. I frowned at him, but my eyes widened when I saw his frantic mimics, indicating the end of the corridor.

I stood up and started to pull him to another room when I heard it. It was Chichiue's authoritative voice, surging earlier than his presence, resounding through the halls. Madara grabbed my hand and started to run away, trying to get me to move along, but then I heard Hahaue's voice, sharper than I thought it could be. I stopped, using my own greater weight and ignoring his frantic pulling, trying to understand what they were discussing about.

"Nee..." whined Madara with an impatient voice, calling my attention. I made a shushing movement and quickly pulled him in Masaru's room, disregarding the two startled maids. I closed the panel without a sound, effectively hiding us from our parents, and crouched out of habit, pressing my ear to the paper divider.

"Kazumi-sama, Madara-sama, you shouldn't…" I interrupted the maid, making a sharp silencing sound, turning to glare at her. If Chichiue caught us spying on him, we would be locked in our room for weeks.

"… is more than prepared. I had children his age out there, Kotone," Chichiue's voice interrupted any and all movement inside the room. I think all of us held our breaths, and I went as far as putting my hand above Madara's mouth, lest he made some kind of noise.

"And I was there to see their mothers mourning, Tajima," Hahaue's voice wasn't soft and gentle at the moment; she sounded sharp and there was ice in her tone. I knew right away who they were talking about. Masaru. The casual, almost aggressive way Hahaue addressed Chichiue made me shudder.

"He is a good shinobi, and he has potential. He'll be fine," replied him. The sound of their clothes was close when they passed in front of the door, and I leaned forward to catch Hahaue's soft answer.

"He isn't a shinobi, Tajima, he's a child. Our child, not some kind of disposable killer to be sent out on missions."

They stopped walking almost in front of me, so near it gave me the illusion of hiding in open space, making me uncomfortable with the possibility of discovery.

"Exactly, he's my child, the Clan Heir. And if he wants to keep that title he will need to prove himself sooner or later. Especially now that Ryuunosuke get to marry his son with my sister," he growled. The animosity in his voice was telling, but I never before had heard about a Ryuunosuke. "He's coming with my team next mission and this is final."

I trembled, hearing the assertive tone of his voice. My heart clenched painfully when I thought about calm, sweet Masaru out on the field, killing, fighting for his life. I knew there was nothing Hahaue or I could do for him, though. She was a civilian with no say on the running of a shinobi Clan, and it was laughable to think Chichiue would hear a toddler. Masaru was going to war, but I hoped with all my being that it wouldn't be as final as my father's words.

* * *

After that, I couldn't act as cheerfully as before, as if I was still ignorant of the transpiring drama going on in my own house. Poor Madara was the one who most felt it, as our adventures were put-off by an indeterminate amount of time. I didn't feel up to any of the usual games, and those days they just reminded me of Masaru, and that soon he would put these in practice, and he would need to play them flawlessly, if he wanted to come back home.

My memories of what would happen just made everything more unbearable. I knew Masaru, Ayumu and I didn't survive in the original storyline, and it made all the air leave my lungs to think that sometime soon Masaru wouldn't come back. I wondered if he would die on that first mission. Chichiue had tried to be reassuring during his conversation with Hahaue, but things _happened_. Problems and situations that were impossible to be predicted; shinobi worked with the assumption of the worst case scenario being their best _bet_, and even _then_ they were caught unaware and killed.

I started to spend more time with him, watching him train relentlessly, only now understanding his new found drive to succeed. He didn't want to die either. The conclusion made me hate my father a little more each time I saw the determination shining in my brother's eyes. I also began to invite myself to his room at night, when the nightmares began. I discovered then that I had a vivid imagination, and that the helpful remembrance of some of the more gruesome passages of the manga, illustrative of all kinds of possibility, didn't really help.

"Kazumi-chan, what are you doing here?" Masaru deadpanned when I accidentally awoke him one of those nights, trying to sneak beneath the covers of his futon.

"Um… I had a nightmare, aniue," I whispered back. The silence at night was oppressive there; very different from my old world, where quiet was elusive at any time of day or night.

"Another one?" he asked with exasperation, shuffling to the side so I had more space. I quickly joined him, escaping the chilly air; the autumn nights were colder than what I expected. "Care to tell me what it was about? Hahaue says it helps."

I thought about it for a moment. Was it right to burden him if he didn't know for sure if he was going out on a mission, yet? But if so, wouldn't it be better to let him know, so he could prepare? I shook my head, trying to think on a course of action. Masaru was seven years old now, and our father deemed him ready to kill and be killed. To my perceptions still influenced by my old world's standards, he was terribly young, and what was happening to him could be constituted as a severe case of child abuse.

"I heard…" I stopped, surprised by myself. I hadn't wanted to say that, not really.

Masaru turned around, resting his head close to mine. I couldn't see his face in the complete darkness of his room, but I could almost feel his gentle smile, warming my chest and making something unwound deep inside it.

"It's okay, you know? It's going to be alright, Kazumi," he whispered to me, his voice close and comforting. I felt my eyes begin to tear up, my throat beginning to close with emotion. I didn't want to lose that sensation; didn't want to think about his little warm body lying cold and blooded on some unknown patch of forest ground.

"H-How do you know?" I demanded with my voice wobbling, clearly indicating I was crying. He made a soothing sound and wound his arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer, making me cling to the simple feeling of _him_. His smell, which still had that indistinctive aroma that I associated with Madara and thus a _baby_; the beating of his heart and the breathing pattern of his chest; the way his hair fell, as thin and silky as mine, and many times more obedient.

"Because I'm training really hard and I'll give my all in this mission. I promise I'll come back to all of you, Kazumi," he said with such a young, serious voice that my heart broke. He couldn't promise me that, not when I _knew_ that, if not in that first mission, than maybe in the next, or the next – sometime soon, so soon – he wouldn't come back alive. "Don't you believe me?"

I nodded, softly bumping my head against his chin. I believed him, of course I did. I saw how much he trained and how good he was, from observing him and from comments overheard by his teachers. I just didn't believe in anyone else to refrain from killing a little boy. Not in that world, not at that time.

For some time, I realized, my memories of future outcomes had blinded me and made me arrogant. I thought I could change everything for the better, just by existing. There had to be some butterfly effect happening even if I, myself, wasn't acting on any of my knowledge. I had been secure in the fact that, when the time was right, I would change the major outcomes to way I wanted. Even while I lived there, for months now, I still felt detached from any kind of threat directed at me. The fact that I, as a baby and daughter of the Uchiha Clan Head, had been sheltered for my whole life there, was just something that aggravated my rather skewed view.

Suddenly, I discovered myself powerless to put a stop to _it_, to this sick Fate dictated by a Japanese manga writer. It was a shock to understand just how much my existence affected the plot. Some part of me was still hoping that, as my presence here indicated, the story was changing, mutating to a new reality, one where my brothers were alive and happy.

It was foolish and naïve. It was such a disgustingly passive way of living this second life that it made me sick. How could I wish for change when I didn't push for it?

I remembered Hashirama's plans for the future, for Konoha. I understood him more now, even if when I first read those chapters all I could think was how unrealistic that desire was, in war-torn times marked by thousands of deaths and years of disputes. How could it be made true, with just two children behind it? I remember reading about the First Shinobi War and thinking that it was a logical outcome to a dream like theirs, in a world like that.

Now, I supported it whole-heartedly. If I just could save all my brothers – all my _four_ brothers – with this dream, I would help Hashirama found his precious village. I would fight his inevitable war, and I would win. Because to lose or give up was not an option, not when my loved ones were _dying_ out there, for land and gold and pride. Those weren't reasons good enough to sacrifice them, not to me.

"Aniue, I'll protect you. All of you," I murmured in the fabric of his sleeping clothes, closing my hands in fists in the front. I was startled by his chuckles, near my ears; it had been so quiet that I thought he was sleeping.

"I don't doubt it, Kazumi-chan. You're an Uchiha too, you know?" he said, his hot breath caressing the top of my head. "We, Uchiha, have _fire_ inside us. We _burn_, Kazumi, for those we love and wish to defend. Someday, you're going to make this will your strongest weapon, too, and I believe in you to protect the Clan, ne?"

I kept quiet, but got closer to him, feeling him hug me and yawn tiredly. I mused over his words. To have the strength to _burn_ for my precious people… I promised myself that when the time came, I wouldn't hesitate.

I would make this will of fire my own, and protect them all, even if it consumed me as well.

* * *

**A/N: Please, feel free to comment on the story or on any mistake you happen to see!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm sorry for the delay with the chapter. Thank you for the reviews! :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Somehow, Masaru's departure didn't go as I expected. After an early morning farewell, the compound continued its day-to-day routine with a tenacity that surprised me. I found myself letting the normalcy take me in, until wedding preparations and lessons filled my days. I missed my brother, but I learned quickly that life doesn't stop to wait for the return of our soldiers. Hahaue helped me accept it, in her usual quiet, subtle ways.

She acted strong and steady, the foundation of the house, maintaining order and discipline. But, maybe because Masaru wasn't at home and Ayumu was busy receiving more detailed tutoring in his combat specialization, she began to keep me at her side more often than not. She liked to keep me nearby, as if afraid I would go next. And that was the way my impromptu lessons in housekeeping began, with me following her lead around our home and learning from observing the other women.

I was of a divided opinion about the lessons. On one hand, they were useful and marked the beginning of my education; I was slowly and carefully instructed in reading, cooking and sewing, even if my hands were clumsy with unaccustomed work and my attention span was woefully lacking in regards to the more _traditional_ classes, as I also was expected to learn calligraphy, ikebana and the tea ceremony.

My developed mind took easily to tasks such as cooking and sewing, and I particularly liked the last; reading and calligraphy were interesting learning experiences and true challenges, but I had the drive to succeed. Unfortunately, my good will ended when I needed to remember all the little nuances of the tea ceremony and I was absolutely terrible at ikebana. I thought many times that my previous Western upbringing probably clashed with my teachings at the time, and so my sense of aesthetics was considered… Nonexistent. I had a good memory for flower meanings – _hanakotoba_ –, but I didn't like to _prune_ and _pick_ at those beautiful flowers; I preferred to arrange whole, colorful bouquets. I almost drove my teachers at the time insane, of course, even if in my young age I wasn't expected to take to my tasks with quite so much seriousness.

On the other hand, though, those lessons troubled me. They obviously negated whatever notion I could have entertained of following the shinobi path. Though, I hadn't made a decision yet. I wasn't ready.

When I thought about my family and all the non-shinobi members the Uchiha Clan protected I wanted to be strong enough to guard them. But my life prior to the strange circumstances I found myself in held me back; I _knew_ I wasn't prepared for it. I had had a secure, sheltered life before. I never thought about the possibility of killing, applied to myself or anyone else. Intellectually, I could understand the concept; it wasn't _hard_ to kill a person, in the physical aspect. For all the wonders of the human body, it was _weak_. We could adapt to extreme conditions, but at the same time one slip of the feet could mean certain death, if the injury was in a place critical enough.

The problem was that I trembled in absolute _terror_ when I thought about having to _fight to survive_. I had been coddled by years of technological progress and a society that valued security and comfort above everything else. Sure, we had murders and accidents, but _of course_ it wouldn't happen to me. _Hundreds_ of generations that hadn't had the need to hunt, to fight or flee, or to actively use their body to survive, had dulled my instincts to curious reactions that weren't necessary anymore. Food was bought, we had heavy punishments that many times prevented violent situations and we lived in highly populated areas, in the heart of civilization, where no being was superior to the _human_ _being_.

When the time came, I didn't know for sure if I wouldn't just freeze in panic and stand there, to passively be slaughtered. I didn't know if I could internalize the notion of surviving by killing that this place taught, destroying _years upon years_ of social education and moral programming.

However, despite all of it, I had the security blanket of knowing that, if I was determined to follow in my brothers and father's footsteps, I could. And even if it was evident that I would go to the battlefield to be summarily killed, I still had the _option_. I didn't like that door suddenly being closed in my face, even if I was already one step inside door number two without choosing. Losing my liberty of choice made me want to rebel in reflex, not let such important decision rest in the hands of others.

Even so, what could I possibly do at the time? I didn't have enough surety to fight with all my being for that choice, and the hardships of the shinobi life were ones that _scared_ me. I didn't know how to stop this course of action, and I didn't _want_ to… In a very subconscious way. Looking back, maybe it was unfair to judge the males of my family. I was fairly predictable in my sheer pigheadedness as well.

And that explained what I was doing one early morning, more or less one month after Masaru's departure, the cold breeze of dawn making me shiver. The sun was trying to shine above the mountains, and the sky was a milky gray to the east, slowly chasing away the deep blue of night and the fog closer to the ground, but still too far away to warm the earth. The stars blinked above my head and a low hanging full moon was clearly visible. I looked around, worried with any sound louder than the crickets, knowing that I wasn't supposed to be there, asking myself what I was thinking.

The metal in my hand tinkled softly in the still silence; I couldn't see anyone. I couldn't be so sure about any shinobi that could be guarding the compound at that hour, but I figured that, if they hadn't stopped me, they probably didn't know I was there. Or maybe they were curious about what stupid, foolish thing I was going to do. I was also interested in founding out, actually.

I thought about the three kunai in my hand. I had taken them while sneaking about with Madara. Our latest adventure had been in one of Chichiue's forbidden rooms, but now that he wasn't there we considered them safe to explore. Turned out we had an armory, besides a dojo. The weapons inside were beautifully made, all in shining metal and dangerous curves, in many varied forms. While there, we noticed a line of kunai and shuriken above a wooden table, obviously just polished, which was perfect for us. I suppose I should have thought more about it, being the responsible adult, but I was as amazed as little Madara-chan, and as curious. So we took the kunai and shuriken, wrapped them in some rags used for cleaning and ran to our room like two thieves, doubled over so that no one could see our treasure.

It had been three days since, and I was growing restless. I had thought for a moment to ask for Ayumu-nii's help, but he had been training hard those days. I think that seeing Masaru go on a mission drove home the fact that he would be the one going out there next. It made me worry about him, because I knew my brothers. Ayumu wasn't like Masaru; he wasn't ready. I feared greatly for him in more ways than the physical one, like with our older brother. I trusted the last to have boundaries, to have the maturity to rise above all the blood, to have the temperament to float instead of sink. Ayumu may have the skill to survive, even if he wasn't a prodigy like Masaru, but he was a child in every sense of the word. I wasn't sure Ayumu would return _whole_ after a mission, and it scared me.

So, I decided that I wouldn't make Ayumu waste his time with me. Sure, it was dangerous, however I wasn't really an almost two year old child, so I figured I was safe from anything like cutting my fingers off accidentally. My dexterity was still limited and the kunai seemed huge in my little fingers, but I was determined to at least _begin_ to train with them. Who knew, maybe I had a hidden talent? Uchiha sure had a lot of those…

I separated one of the throwing knives, keeping the other two secured in my left hand. I blinked at the kunai in my other hand, weighting it and thinking about the right way to hold it. They were _huge _in my tiny little fists, seeming too big for me to throw them; the metal probably wasn't as heavy as it felt to me, but when I fisted my hand around the small handle, my fingers didn't reach each other. Distracted, I let the two other kunai fall to the ground, taking the one in my hands closer.

The sound wasn't really loud against the floor of beaten earth, but in the utter silence of our backyard it was like thunder to my senses. I looked around, trying to determine if anyone had heard it, but of course I couldn't be sure. After five minutes of holding my breath and not daring to move an inch, I finally relaxed when no one came running to see if enemy ninja had invaded the compound.

I looked down at the kunai in my hand, now irritated and tense with the situation. Training was being more stressful than I thought it should be, and I almost turned around and forgot the crazy idea. With a tired sigh, I let my head fall, slowly inspiring the smell of dew and revolved earth.

I felt the sharp edges of the cold metal, careful not to cut myself. The handle was tightly wrapped in what felt like some kind of thick cloth, which made sense, because we didn't have any other adherent material. The cloth made for good gripping, and it didn't slip even against the sweat in the palms of my hands.

I tried to think how I was supposed to throw it. I kept gripping it like it was a normal knife from my old world, but I didn't want to go eat supper with my enemies. I gave a frustrated huff and felt for the balance on the center of the kunai. It was perfect, of course. I thought about it for a moment and just took it in an instinctive grip, like I was really going to throw it, without thinking, just _doing_ it.

The balance changed, now I could feel the weight in my wrist, but there wasn't impulse, because my whole body had to follow the action for it to be effective. I looked at my feet, thinking half-memories of how to change my body's center of gravity, not knowing if I was doing it right, but having to try. I supposed I should have a good foundation, or my own weight would follow the throw and I would just overbalance and fall forward, so I brought my left foot forward, resting on the right one.

I swayed from one foot to the other, changing my equilibrium back and forth. I wasn't as firm as I should be, but my coordination couldn't compare to that of an adult and it was to be expected. Anyway, it was the best I could do. My shoulders probably had to rotate to give my arm more speed.

I prepared, my heart beating hard against my ribs. I was _excited_ about it, even if I couldn't imagine throwing a weapon at another human being.

I took my stance, left feet on the front, hand at the height of the shoulders, hips slightly turned for more impulse. I changed my center to the front and let the kunai fly… Or I tried. It tumbled to the ground harmlessly and almost took me with it. The target was more or less ten feet away from me and it just flopped to the bare earth less than one foot from my hand. My pride stung and I glared at the knife like it was at fault. It seemed I didn't have the prodigy gene for that kind of thing, then. I supposed it could be a recessive trait…

"That was _terrible_… Seriously, where did you learn how to throw a kunai? Did you even _learn_?" the unexpected question made me jump and turn around quickly. My breathe was coming in gasps and my heart hammered away in my chest, adrenaline making me feel like running or punching the kid that had scared me so bad.

When I saw him, I immediately relaxed. For a moment, I had thought it was Ayumu-onii-san. I wouldn't have heard the end of it if he had caught me trying so pitifully to throw a kunai. Instead, a boy around Masaru's age was sitting atop one of the barrels littering the backyard, full with vegetables or rain water for the garden.

The kid had a strange hair, the color of snow – not silver or gray, like someone of old age, but pure white. He could be an Uchiha, too, if not for that color; his hair certainly was as unruly as mine, but his was worse, cut close to his head and standing up all around. He had dark eyebrows, framing his gleaming eyes of solid brown, and a knowing smirk that just made my bad temper flare even more. His clothes were simple and dirty, but the material wasn't cheap, and it made alarm bells sound in my head.

The majority of the people living in the compound were non-combatant members and shinobi stationed for guarding or just treating an injury. The civilians wore simple clothes of easily acquired materials, so that they had everything they needed inside the compound. The shinobi wore clothes of muted colors too, but they were sturdier and made for durability. They could go for days without washing and many months before beginning to fray.

The boy was wearing shinobi attire, but even if the colors were normal enough, the style was different from what I had seen so far, and gave me pause. I eyed him warily, half of me analyzing his easy posture, trying to determine if he was combat trained, and the other half scoffing at my growing paranoia. That place was getting to me faster than I thought possible.

"Are you retarded? I mean, everyone knows the Uchiha had a girl but no one heard anything about one more shinobi being trained. Is it because you're… You know, not right in the head?" asked the boy, interrupting my silent analysis.

"Excuse me?" I demanded, wanting nothing more but to take one of the kunai on the floor and train my aim with _him_ as the target. But he just laughed off my glare, completely relaxed. "I will have you know I'm perfectly _fine_ in my head. I'm just not… Gifted in the shinobi arts."

"Oh, I see. So you just suck at it, eh?" he said, all wide, innocent eyes with smirk firm in place.

"Why, you little piece of…" I snarled, giving one step forward to follow my plan of punching the brat. He jumped off the barrel, but didn't move away; he wasn't worried about me, and it showed in the ease of his movements, the line of his shoulders and face. He wasn't preparing to fight, but to humor me.

"I never thought I would hear such words coming from an ojou-sama!" he exclaimed in false surprise, and immediately turning mischievous again he added, "Never mind such a _tiny_ one."

I glared at him with fierce dislike, from his unkempt appearance to the knowing smirk still firm in his face. I wanted to know who he thought he was to come to _my_ house and insult _me_, daughter of Uchiha Tajima himself. It gave me pause for a moment, because I hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction out of myself. It was the first time in this life – the first I remember of – that someone had been so rude and dismissive to me.

With a start, I realized I didn't know who this boy was. In this age and time, it was a foolish thing to forget, and to keep on talking to him when he could be here to assassinate my family during sleep was even more so. Every warning my father had thought to give me and Madara before going went flaring through my head and suddenly, I was afraid of the unruly child in front of me.

"Who are you?" I whispered, taking a step back, feeling the kunai against my heels. In my mind, I cursed my kimono, utterly impractical in that kind of situation. Even if I ran, I would fall few steps later, my legs entangling with the delicate but stifling layers of my clothes.

"Ah, you finally caught on," he responded with ease, resting his body against the damp wood of the barrel. He wasn't attacking, but his body gave off a sense of alertness, like he could in an instant be behind me, slitting my throat open. It made me swallow convulsively against the ghost sensation of those cold, cold weapons in contact with the soft tissue of my neck. "I was beginning to worry, really. There is no place for little, naïve girls in this world. You had me scared for a moment there."

His roguish smile wasn't infuriating anymore. Now it made me shiver when I noticed, for the first time, that they showed off teeth too sharp to be human, his canines appearing above his bottom lip in a menacing fashion. I didn't know if he was making fun of or threatening me. For all I knew, he was a little psychopath who liked the smell of fear on his victims.

I felt how my knees trembled and my hands were cold with the sweat cooling in contact with the air still not warmed by the sun. I felt breathless, as if my lungs needed more oxygen than I could give them, and I couldn't stop the sick feeling spreading inside me while my heart beat frantically. My muscles quivered and half my brain was preoccupied with its options, assessing my surroundings for a chance to escape, searching for that precious moment when I could turn around and enter the house.

Like it would help. Like the flimsy paper walls could protect me against the physical prowess of a shinobi using chakra to enhance his physique. How could I possibly survive that attack? I was powerless and unprepared. The sense of irony wasn't lost in me, when I thought about my conviction in following the exact path that would lead me, someday, to the other side of the backyard, observing my target with the same keen attention, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It made me sick.

We were at a standstill, the tension thick in the air. Minutes had passed but it felt like hours, and I battled with myself against the urge to just scream for some Clan member, hoping that the kid –… No, the _shinobi_ hadn't killed them. I wanted Ayumu, or Hahaue, or even Chinatsu-san to come looking for me and to save me from the enemy shinobi, just smiling with all his teeth.

A sudden howl broke the air, as abrupt as a knife. I felt it in my guts, resonating around me, reverberating against the buildings. The fog made every sound distorted, closer somehow than it really was.

The air escaped me in one big rush, and every nerve in my body stood at attention. I was going to run away, fast. Scream as hard as I could and just awake the whole compound. I was just so scared I stayed immobile, useless. I saw a series of events play in front of my eyes, but I still couldn't move. It didn't seem real. It _wasn't_ real. Why was it happening? Why hadn't someone…

"Dammit, Gekko!" the boy snarled, turning around to somewhere in the west. He startled me out of my desperate thought processes. "God damned needy pup… Doesn't get out of my hair even when I tell him to _stay and shut up_… Hey, ojou-sama! Even _you_ would get that, right?"

I only stared at him, flabbergasted with how unthreatening he appeared to be, when moments before I was certain he would kill me without blinking an eye. The nickname was still aggravating – as was him as a whole – and I had to force myself not to forget the deceitful ways of the shinobi, not to let my mind be clouded by his act.

A new round of howls echoed to us, bringing with it a series of curses and complaints that the boy wasn't ashamed to spill in his loud and boisterous ways. I felt sorry for the… Creature. Wolf, maybe, but I wasn't sure. I worried for a moment, thinking of the possibility of it being a sign for reinforcements to attack the sleeping compound, but the sound was somehow more acute, less a call for the kill and more a plead. Maybe it was calling out for its master? This would explain my would-be assassin's temper.

It also made me think that there was no way the brat was there to kill anyone. No good shinobi would bring such a huge liability to the field, risking discovery and execution. Maybe he was just an apprentice. I felt his mentor was probably expecting it would kill him, send him to the heart of the hidden Uchiha compound for a mission. I could understand the urge, really, but I thought it unlikely.

That in turn gave me pause, again. Why and how did he know where to found the headquarters of the Uchiha Clan?

"Who are you?" I asked again, finally beginning to reign in my body's overreactions. I was proud to notice my voice was small but not afraid. I was in control again, and I refused to let some runt shake _me_. I was an adult and I would act my age, and not be humiliated by brain-washed children soldiers.

"Huh? I didn't tell you yet?" he turned to me with a confused expression, sheepishly messing his bird nest of a hair. He puffed up, lifting his chin, trademark smirk in place, the tip of his sharp canines peeking under his lip. "My name is Kegawa, of the most powerful Clan in all the western lands, the Inuzuka!"

I stared at him for a moment. My thought processes halted in part by his excited exclamation, but mostly by the utter oddness of my predicament. Why was an Inuzuka of all things sneaking around my Clan's compound at the crack of dawn? It explained the howling, however what was he doing there? Also…

"Kegawa?" I repeated slowly, staring pointedly at his strange hair color. _Fur? _His parents obviously weren't creative in the naming department.

"You know, 'cause of the hair," he answered, lowering his head and pointing at his own gravity-defying white mane.

"Huh," I muttered in thinly concealed disdain, trying to think about something intelligent to answer _that_ with. I shook my head, determined to get past my lost focus and concentrate in the important things. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you yet?" he said in the same tone of voice he had used before. An insignificant stray thought crossed my mind that it would be an annoying habit to endure in cases of long periods of exposure to Kegawa. "I'm a scout for your Clan, you see? Had a bit of a mission going on, but me and Gekko, we already finished that. I was to report to my contact, a guy I don't see has some time now. I thought it would be smart to check it with the bosses and skip all the crap with liaisons. I'm not intruding, am I?"

"Not at all," I said in a dry tone in response, hoping that he would hear the sarcasm but dismissing the notion when he just looked around with wide eyes.

"Why are you alone, anyway? Shouldn't you have some guards and shit?" his incredulous questions made me smile a little. He seemed to have a distorted notion of the Clan, if he thought something so foolish. Certainly he didn't believe that I was actually called ojou-sama and had bodyguards? Besides, we were in the main compound, in the heart of Uchiha territory. There wasn't idiocy enough accumulated in a single shinobi that would make him come unprepared and uninvited to the Clan's headquarters… And then there was Kegawa.

"Guards and shit?" I repeated with an innocent expression. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm alone now. Maybe you should stay and guard me, hmm, dog-boy?"

"I'm not a dog, I _have_ a dog! It's different, shit, _different_!" he yelled, moving his arms about and doing a lot of unnecessary noise. I panicked for a moment, running the few feet between us and throwing myself at him to just make him _stop_ for a minute. It shocked him into silence and let me strain to hear something else besides his noisy breathing. "Ojou-sama, what are you doing?"

"Quiet, dog-boy, you're going to attract all kinds of attention if you don't stop barking," I growled at him, clenching my hands in his clothe and hoping to get at some skin. Maybe I could beat some sense in the kid. What more could I do for him to understand that I was there pretty much unsupervised and without permission?

"What?" he exclaimed in a _loud_ whisper. I glared up at him, still not letting go. I was more scared of Chinatsu-san than I was of a would-be shinobi anyway. I watched his expression slowly turn suspicious, already expecting his words when they came. "Ojou-sama, are you allowed to be out there, training with kunai all by yourself?"

I stayed quiet, just looking him in the eye and trying my best to make my face expressionless. I was a horrible liar, and for all I knew he could just smell the nervous sweat in my skin or hear my rapid heartbeat and catch me, anyway. However, I couldn't stop chanting inside my head for some deity to intervene and stop his thought processes and suddenly assessing eyes.

"You are so screwed," he said with slow relish, his grin widening to show all his teeth.

* * *

To say Chinatsu-san was angry would be an understatement; more so than Hahaue even, who appeared happy to let him handle the situation. Ayumu, on the other hand, was ominously silent, his dark eyes sharp, spearing the side of my head. His little, but not at all weak, body loomed alone in the corner of the room we used when receiving guests, waiting for his chance to give me a piece of his mind.

"… your fingers! Could have been killed by an infiltrating enemy! Do you have any idea of how _stupid_ you were?" Chinatsu-san was repeating herself, but I abstained from pointing it out, thinking it would be smarter to let her vent her anger. Kegawa wasn't of the same thought.

"Yeah, yeah, you already said that. Can you think up something more depressing that could've happened to Ojou-sama?"

"What? Listen here, you little piece of…" Ayumu's temporary stoic countenance broke, interrupting whatever Chinatsu-san was about to growl at Kegawa.

"Ayumu, please, watch your language," Hahaue's soft rebuke broke Ayumu's tirade in the same instant.

"Huh, you really are siblings," spoke Kegawa, turning to look from Ayumu to me. I ignored Ayumu's somewhat startled expression and Chinatsu-san's renewed attempt to flay me with her gaze, but blushed under Hahaue's small, knowing smile. Kegawa turned to Ayumu-nii-san, staring him in the eye with seriousness. "Listen, I don't know much 'bout the Uchiha, but kids at home get at least some liberty."

"She's _one_, you dumbass!" snapped Ayumu, interrupting dog-boy. Kegawa glared but surprisingly didn't respond to the urge of immersing himself in a name-calling contest.

"And she's a damn smart one-year old, too," he barked back. "She's fine, everything's fine. Lay off a little. 'Sides, she was on the right track to nail that kunai… Just give her a year or two and she'll also know how to do it right." I glowered at him for his comment when he turned to smirk at me.

"I understand your point, Inuzuka-kun," Hahaue's voice made me turn immediately in her direction. "Nevertheless, Kazumi _is_ too young. I think you realize my reticence in letting her train alone and unsupervised. I also think that you will understand, Kazumi, that for that you will be punished."

"What?" I let slip, blinking at her. It wasn't that I hadn't been punished before, but I never saw my trying to throw a kunai as something dangerous. I wasn't _really_ one year old, and even if Hahaue didn't know how developed my mind was, I was considered a genius in my own right. She should have known that I wasn't doing it for the pleasure of causing havoc. But when she turned to me with a slight frown I blushed and looked down.

"Yes, you are. Furthermore, you will never again enter your father's armory, or your punishment _will_ be worse," I had never heard her speak like that before; her tone of voice was quiet and low, but her demeanor was serious. When she spoke, her words were slow and precise. "You will abstain from watching your brother's training sessions without permission from now on. Clearly, your judgment is lacking despite all the warnings about the dangers of training, and I can't trust you to understand that it _isn't_ a game."

It hurt, to hear the disappointment in her voice. I couldn't breathe past the lump in my throat and my eyes stung like they hadn't since my time as a scared and confused baby. My stomach was full of lead and I felt the need to expel it rise until my mouth was full of bile. I clenched my fingers in the fabric of my kimono and swallowed, trying to dispel the water from my vision, refusing to let the tears fall.

"Yes, Hahaue," I tried to say in as precise a voice as she had used while destroying my short-lived dreams of power and independency, but it was a broken whisper that stumbled out of my mouth. The too quiet air in the room made me fill my face become hot and red with shame, but I didn't lower my head. She didn't answer, just nodding somberly in my direction before turning to the others.

"Chinatsu-san, if you would be so kind as to tell the maids to prepare a bedroom for our guest and draw a warm bath for him, I would be grateful. Ayumu, you are going to be late for your training session with Sora-kun; you mustn't be late, it would be poor behavior, so go. Inuzuka-kun, I am sorry to tell you that my husband isn't at home now, but I offer you my house for recovery and rest."

"I thank you for your hospitality, Uchiha-sama," Kegawa's voice was completely different, even if the respectful words didn't match his gruff way of talking.

I stayed quiet while they filtered out of the room. I didn't rise to follow them, seeing as Hahaue was still seated, clearly expecting to continue our talk. I thought about escaping anyway; I was small enough and I could found Madara and escape to some of the more unused corners of the house. He would like that; it had been some time since our last adventure.

I was startled out of my thoughts when I was suddenly engulfed in my mother's warm arms, her smell filling the air around me, the feeling of the kimono's fabric familiar against me. It was one of her favorites, and I remember the sensation of it against my too sensitive newborn skin.

I felt my face become hot and red again, fisting my hands in the cloth and burring myself in her stomach, trying to stop any tears from coming. I wasn't that weak, but it had been some time since my last break down. It happened sometimes, when the whole situation caught up with me. I had bad days and I had normal days, but the past was always lurking in the back of my mind. And I didn't have anyone who I could turn to with my thoughts, not even my rock and safe haven, my mother in this world.

Masaru's departure; the pressure of a shinobi life, like a shadow, looming over every moment; my encounter not only with Inuzuka Kegawa – which for some reason drove home with terrible accuracy the fact that _yes_, I would be seeing characters from a manga from now on in the flesh, destroying any subtle attempt of my subconscious to dwell in psychological theories to explain that impossible situation – but also with my own blatant weakness. I couldn't be a ninja while retaining my old world's beliefs and attitudes. To have Hahaue's disappointment in me for even _trying_ thrown in my face made me feel like the ground beneath my feet was shaking and falling apart.

Where was I supposed to lean for support? Nowhere. I didn't have a safe place to run to or someone I trusted enough to turn to with those kinds of problems. So I just stayed there, in my mother's embrace, drowning the overbearing pressure that I was guilty of putting in myself, but didn't know how to let go. Just for a moment, I let the fantasy stay in place, returning to the old belief that _there_, nothing bad could ever happen.

There Masaru would return home, and Ayumu wouldn't ever need to deal with blood in his little, child fingers, and Madara wouldn't turn mad with pain and hatred. Maybe I wouldn't die and the Uchiha Clan wouldn't be decimated until we had only one last member. I didn't have to worry about wars and blood feuds or killing attempts. It was as safe as any illusion you could imagine.

"What… Do you think strength means, Kazumi?" Hahaue's halting voice broke it, cutting through that world. I couldn't be angry with her for it, not really. In that way laid madness, and that I couldn't afford. I tried to think about it, to rise above the turmoil.

"To… To have the power to protect others?" I whispered in her belly, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. She hummed, the sound amplified against my ears, and ran her fingers through my tangled hair.

"That's a good answer," she said softly, but I could hear the reticence in her voice. It was a good answer, but it wasn't as simple as that. I knew it, she knew it, but, in the end, it was what motivated me to try and train alone. It was the answer she would be looking for, so I gave it to her without further encouragement. "Some people, even grown-up people, think that to be strong is to have the means to protect themselves. Others that it means to be the best, and rise above the weaker."

"They think strength equals power," I interjected, rising my head a little to look her in the eye. She gave a wide smile, a proud one that warmed me inside and calmed down some of the storm in my mind.

"Yes, they do. Because when you aim to protect yourself out of self-interest or you seek only leverage for your own purposes, it is the kind of strength they understand is needed. Truthfully, that was the downfall of many a Clan in the past, and it will continue to plague men many years in the future."

A part of me agreed with her, having seen where that kind of mentality could lead someone. Another part, however, was becoming suspicious and trying to figure out where she wanted to stir the conversation to. Wherever it was, I had a feeling I knew the final destination. It made me rebel against the notion, and I wanted to lash out and walk away. I didn't want to hear her excuses for forbidding me of following the shinobi path my father and brothers had taken; because it was exactly what she was trying to do.

"But…" she hesitated for a moment, appearing to think about introducing her real thoughts, maybe thinking about a way to explain the right concepts to her one year old daughter. "But we know that it isn't the only kind of strength. There's more to being strong than power, Kazumi. I want you to think about the wars happening right now. Do you think that shinobi are strong?"

"Of course," I answered without having to think about it, now paying attention to what she was saying. It wasn't what I had been expecting, and I wanted to know where she was going with it. If she was implying shinobi sought power for the sake of power, she was absolutely _wrong_. I thought about Masaru, and how he was fighting for the _Clan_, how he made me promise I would continue to protect it if he someday failed to return home. I could appreciate the strength of the shinobi because I could see the sacrifices my brothers made and remember the suffering others would go through in the future, just to protect their loved ones.

"Well, then, what do you think of those that stay behind?" she asked, looking me in the eye, trying to convey something with her expression. I frowned, because it felt like a trick question, but I couldn't see the trap.

"They aren't as strong as shinobi," I said slowly, trying to see beyond the obvious, searching for that clue in her eyes.

"They aren't as _powerful_ as shinobi," she said in return, a cutting edge hidden behind her serene expression. I blinked at it, trying to understand where it came from; then I remembered Chichiue. His views on his civilian wife probably weren't very flattering. "Do you remember when Asuka-san lost her child?"

I winced in her arms. I remembered that. Asuka-san was one of my mother's closest friends. From what I knew they had grown up together. Asuka-san had married a shinobi, and they had three sons. Hahaue said that they were deeply in love, and so Asuka-san ignored her family's warning that she shouldn't, because she could be widowed any time. But the shinobi had lived, and they were a happy couple. Until war came again, and the shinobi was killed early on. She was devastated, but she couldn't crumble to the ground and live in sorrow, because she needed to raise her three children. The oldest one was called for a mission shortly after, even if he wasn't older than ten and barely trained. He didn't return.

Even then, Asuka-san knew that the Clan could call her other two children, because in times of war it is customary to train some kids and throw them in the battlefield. So, even if she was terrified of losing her remaining sons, she knew that when the time came her family would have to give their lives for the Clan. It was the inheritance of her children, their duty in the place of their father. So she found ways to train them, hiring shinobi out of combat and begging others for orientation. She needed to work to sustain the household, and to further her sons' study, and so she did, becoming one of the Clan's best seal makers, actually, even if I don't understand how it had been possible.

In the end, she lost everything. Her younger boy survived a year before being ambushed and her middle son was encountered disfigured by torture, barely alive. He didn't betray the Clan. He didn't survive, though, even with our healers' best efforts. By then, an accident with a poorly made seal took her right hand's mobility. She was a stern and tough woman, made so by life, but after her last son's burial, she came to our home and broke down in front of mother. It was… Horrible to see. How someone could be reduced by circumstance in that way. Her desperation and sadness, her clouded eyes and jerking motions. The wails, the calls, the nightmares.

She could have – in my opinion, she _should _have – blamed the Clan for the death of her children, one after the other. She could have stayed there, in despair, letting her life pass by or even worse, she could have killed herself. However, after a month, she came back, this time with a seal array she was experimenting with, to help the Clan in the war effort.

Asuka-san was _strong_, as well. Strong in a way I wasn't sure I could be. When I thought about losing my family, any one of them, I felt like my interior was being sucked into a void. I was fighting against _destiny_ fiercely, but I was also teetering in the edge of a dangerous cliff, clinging to my life _now_ just to stop me from being pulled into my old self, where I would start to question the very reality I lived in. I didn't know what would happen if someday I lost one of my tethers to sanity and stability.

"I understand," I murmured, not really realizing the amount of time I had spent quiet.

"No, not yet," her reply startled me, but when I looked at her there wasn't frustration in her face. She smiled in a bittersweet way. "But you will, someday."

She kissed my forehead, squeezing me in her arms with slightly more force, before standing with her usual grace. She passed a hand through the kimono's folds, rearranging any wrinkled cloth, and left the room with silent footsteps, returning to her duties.

What she didn't understand, though, was that I _needed_ to be powerful. How could I help my brothers if I couldn't be by their sides? How could I hope to protect them if I was imprisoned by the compound's walls?

Masaru wanted to be strong for others, to have the power to guard us. _I_ had that desire inside of me too, and I wouldn't abandon my family or my Clan to their fates. I wouldn't stay put and let the story follow its course. I would challenge the whole world if necessary, and I would do my very best to make sure I _won_.

Until then, as they used to say in my old world, one step at a time. I resolved to search for my neglected younger brother, hoping that he wasn't up to anything too dangerous.

* * *

I finally found him in one of our more recluse settings, the tea garden. Ours was a small, intimate one, and the lush vegetation was beautiful in the summer, full of the sweet smell of flowers and the sound of the cicadas filling the air. It also tended to be seldom used, only when noble dignitaries came from the daimyo's court to pay a visit to one of the most powerful Clans of the land. He was out of the path weaving seamlessly through the plants and flowers.

I heard him before seeing his small form. He was in a small clearing, made out of the way, but easily found with a little more investigation. There was a pound with still, clear water reflecting the gray sky like a mirror, and a circle of not very tall trees, bare with the winter.

There was silence for a moment, and then the sound again, like he was throwing something. I knew immediately what he was doing, and a small smile grew in my face. It seemed we had had the same idea.

I took the somewhat hidden trail into the clearing and stopped, just looking at him. His form was perfect, his throw precise. The kunai flew in a streak of dulled silver throw the air and embedded itself in the flesh of the tree. He was pretty close to his imagined target, but I supposed that it was due to his lack of force. Still, the weapon went to the same spot, like there was a magnet pulling it, always to the same fissure in the dark bark.

I thought about the number of times we watched our older brothers do the same movement, with the same fluid motion he now imitated. I couldn't do it, even if I had been there more times than little Madara could have. My body was more developed and I had more strength in my arms, even if just because of the added mass due to my growth. My mind was mature and my thought processes faster, my cognitive functions were operating at their peak. I had anatomic and physical knowledge, even if I didn't know how.

And still, he could throw a kunai and hit his target with ease and grace.

I thought about Kegawa's words and Ayumu's protectiveness and felt envy swell inside my chest, a fire that made my heart beat sickly against my ribs, curling my fingers in the palms of my hands. I never really gave any thought to how much of a genius Madara was, but the proof was there, in front of me. Plunging that knife of humiliation and impotent anger a little deeper.

I looked away from him, ashamed by my own reaction. I wasn't as important as him, and I never would be. He was pivotal to this world, while I was fated to die and be mentioned in a single line of conversation in the future. But more than that, he was my little brother, who I had promised to protect and nurture…

With a frown, I turned my eyes in his direction and let the emotion fill me, instead; a vile taste in my mouth and an ugly wound in my affections toward him. I remembered that old curse of brothers that for love destroyed each other and for hate destroyed themselves, and let it burn the warning in my head. I embraced the feeling. I couldn't be pulled into Madara and Izuna, Itachi and Sasuke… I had to be above all of them, to protect my descendants and future leaders. I wouldn't make the same mistakes, not when I knew the consequences.

I let it simmer inside until I could breathe past it and see the sweet, headstrong and fierce little boy. I still loved him very much, but I wouldn't fell to the traps of the Uchiha curse. It could be callous and cold, but I couldn't let myself forget that the blood running through my veins made me as susceptible as the other tragic characters. I couldn't love them so much to the point of madness, not with the possible future looming ahead, and I definitely couldn't hate them enough to destroy everything I was fighting right now to protect.

I remembered Hahaue's tranquil strength. I tried to think about the smooth lines of her face and the peaceful quiet in her eyes, the ease in her graceful movements and the balm of her peaceful words. I would need to be that way, some day. For the Uchiha Clan and, more than that, for my family, to stir Madara and the others clear of the same course that lead to disaster and self-destruction.

I left without interrupting him, looking attentively at the leaf-littered ground, worried with accidentally stepping in a twig or dry leaf. I didn't want to talk to him anymore.

* * *

I roamed the house, passing through the more out of the way rooms, trying to think about something to pass the time that wouldn't involve following Hahaue or Chinatsu-san around and picking up some task to improve my learning. I wasn't in the mood for sewing or cooking, and my temperament was rather dark and depressed. I was fine alone, and truthfully didn't want to rise from my own all-consuming thoughts of future and past.

It was then that I found the hime of the Clan. Uchiha Junko, my aunt.

Her beauty couldn't be compared to Hahaue's, because in my mind they were unique. Hahaue wasn't outstanding, her face was pleasant but not striking, just attractive and symmetrical; what separated her from others was her expressions, the spirit in her eyes, the air around her, her swift and dancing gestures. She wasn't frail, just gracious and calm, always in possession of herself.

Junko was unearthly, delicate in all the senses of the word. Her bone structure was light and her veins showed beneath the thin layer of milky skin. Her hair was long and unbound, cascading like dark water to her waist, framing a fragile face with huge eyes. The eyes, though, were her most prominent feature. They were a soft blue unheard of in the Uchiha Clan; at least, I had never before seen anyone with that eye color.

The genetic complications of _that_ made my head hurt, but it also made me curious. I always thought the Uchiha tended to marry inside the Clan, and even more so the main branch. But I couldn't be certain about the earlier days, and I had to admit our genetic pool was limited, at best, with our insular nature. Blue eyes had the possibility of manifesting in a late descendant, even if it was so rare that two carriers of the right genes would marry and have a child.

So, she was something different than what I was used to… Submissive, cautious in her words and slow in her movements, even if she moved with the proper posture expected of a high born. She wasn't like Hahaue's quiet authority, directing the whole household, or Chinatsu-san's assertive way of dealing with events. She was my father's sister and his opposite in every sense; she appeared young and naïve, and the kind of person that would bend to someone else just to escape confrontation. My family was a strong one, and I liked that trait; she didn't belong with us.

I don't know what she was doing there, I never asked. We encountered each other in one of the open rooms, the cold breeze entering without obstacle. The sky was still somewhat gray and it didn't appear to want to let the sun through, and the room was quite dark that day. I liked it because it promised me the quiet and tranquility I needed. I don't know her personal reasons for straying there, not really, but if I could hazard a guess, I think it had to be because of her impending marriage.

We stopped, staring surprised at each other from opposite sides of the room. I assessed the strange woman before me, trying to find her face in my memory, and she blinked huge blue, blue eyes with a mostly expressionless visage.

"You are Kazumi-chan, right?" she asked, and I blinked for a moment, surprised that she knew about me, before realizing that of course she would; she probably heard about us from Hahaue. Her smile was slow and didn't have much mirth behind it, just a stretching of her lips in a sweet, subdued smile. It wasn't sad, but she didn't appear to have much interest in making it more real.

I nodded, giving a proper bow in sign of respect for an elder.

"I'm Junko, it's nice to meet you," she continued, bowing herself.

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine," I answered, trying to figure out if it would be terribly rude of my part to just continue my walk around. I resolved to quickly finish the pleasantries and be on my way. "Congratulations on your marriage, Junko-san." I said, bowing one last time and starting to go through the same I door I had came in.

"Of course, congratulations," she repeated, her voice a pensive murmur. I stopped, cursing myself all the time. She sounded so fragile in that moment, and there was something about her that made her appear weak. It would make me feel bad about myself to continue without a care. So I turned around.

"Is everything alright, Junko-san?" I asked with hesitancy. I didn't want to be pulled in a family drama, I had my own problems do deal with. She looked at me with suddenly too piercing eyes, and for a moment I could see the family resemblance with Chichiue.

"You are a very intelligent little girl, aren't you?" the words could have been threatening, if not for her meek voice and vaguely curious expression.

"Um," I made, nodding and deciding to dumb down a little. "People tell me I am smart."

"Hmm… Tajima was the same when he was a child," she said, turning her head slightly to the side. I found the way she spoke of my father strange, with a certain condescension in her voice. "He was intelligent, more so than Hiroto. Did you know about Hiroto?"

"No. Who's Hiroto?" I said. I didn't know why she was talking to me about my father's childhood, but I noticed how easily she changed the subject of her marriage. She frowned, a small wrinkle between her well delineated eyebrows.

"You should have, he was your uncle," she declared, but there was no heat or indignation; it was just an innocent statement. "But I don't suppose Tajima would talk about him very much," she finished, sighing.

"Why wouldn't he?" I asked, now curious. I had never before heard about an uncle… Truthfully, not even about an aunt, until the beginning of the wedding preparations. I not even _knew_ why our house was open to the event planning, because it shouldn't be Hahaue's responsibility.

"Oh, no, this story I don't tell," she giggled. For just a moment, those blue eyes were too wide, her smile too strained, but when I blinked her face was lovely again. It was just more and more interesting. Hiroto was a new concept to me; he was a dissonance in my world. He wasn't cannon, he was a wild card. Junko, as well. But Junko I could learn to predict; her I could fit in someplace of the plot, because she was _there_. I wanted to know that story. I didn't want any surprises later.

"Hmm… Is it a nice story?" I asked in as babyish a voice as I could make. Junko's eyes shined and her shy smile stretched to show her teeth, transforming all her face in a mischievous expression.

"I don't know the end yet," she replied, biting her lower lip. She leaned a little forward, lowering her voice, and confessed with childlike delight, "But I think it will be great."

I frowned. Maybe I had never heard of Junko before because she wasn't very sane. But then, even she didn't make any sense to me, something in that conversation kept jumping at me. Somehow, I had the strangest impression that she was playing with me. It could also be that her sudden moods surprised me enough to not let me read her as well as I should, and it made me wary and suspicious.

"So…" she began, turning her head to the side again. "What are you doing here, Kazumi-chan? Shouldn't you be with Kotone?"

"Ah, I'm just passing the time," I murmured back, lowering my eyes, remembering my reasons for encountering her.

"Say, Kazumi-chan," she began in a slow, inviting voice that made me cringe inside. It was the baby-talk in disguise. "Would like to have some tea with me?"

I stared for a moment, thinking about it. It just seemed to be so late to me because of the events of the morning and the gray cast of the sky, the sun hidden behind thick clouds turning the day white and cold. It was a strange weather for our location. I realized that I hadn't had breakfast yet, and my stomach immediately manifested in accordance.

"Yes, thank you," I replied, bowing and following her when she signaled with a satisfied grin the direction she had come from.

* * *

Junko was more relaxed and her words were more biting behind her shyness and rather absent demeanor. It was nice to have someone outside my immediate family to talk to, and it was nice to think about another's problems instead of running in circles inside my own head. She was telling me about her fiancé, Ryouichi. The way she talked about our families, we had history with his branch… The way I remembered my father talking about Ryouichi's father, it wasn't a good one.

I realized pretty soon that I was actually… Gossiping. It was an unexpected discovery, but I resolved to continue. I didn't have anywhere I had to be and I was still in an avoiding campaign of the other occupants of the house, anyway.

"He already married once?" I asked, slightly interested, while waiting for the leaves to infuse the scalding water properly.

"Oh, yes, once," she answered, already drinking from her cup, blowing the scented steam in my direction before daintily raising the tea to her lips. "She was sick, though, and lived for three more years after the marriage."

"And he is marrying you now?" I inquired, surprised. If he had stood by his wife's side even knowing she was sick for three years, why marry again? Surely, he loved her very much. Junko laughed, covering her mouth and throwing a condescending look at me.

"Ryuunosuke is eager to expand his influence by tying his family closer to the main branch," she said instead of giving me a direct answer. "But I don't know Ryouichi well enough to pass judgment. Did he love his sick wife?" she shrugged. "Now, did he love her enough to not take on a more suited bride? I think we know the answer."

Clan politics. They were sick, vicious and headache inducing. I winced and once again ascertained my resolve to stir clear of that writhing can of worms. I was curious by nature, but I didn't want to shake any bones in the closets. By contrast, Junko appeared well-versed in the whos and whys.

"But is he a bad person? I mean, is he violent or rude?" I asked, playing Devil's advocate to try and understand her reticence to marry the man. She thought about it for a moment, resting her cup in the wooden table cradled in her hands.

"No, I don't think so," she answered, raising the cup to take a sip. I copied her, holding the hot tea in my mouth for a moment before swallowing, appreciating the sweet, singular taste. I knew for a fact that it probably had been imported from another land; it was too exotic. Made me think about where she had lived all those years; certainly not in our compound, but maybe somewhere south? "But even if he were, a woman of my age can't be too demanding."

"Your age, Junko-san?" I repeated, smiling a little. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five, and even then it was a stretch. She, in turn, smirked at me and enjoyed my shocked look with her answer.

"Kazumi-chan, you flatter me. I am thirty-two."

"No way!" I exclaimed, letting my own cup hit the table loud when I lowered it from my lips in shock. I blushed in the next instant, embarrassed with my rude outburst. Junko just laughed, again covering her mouth.

"It's alright, Kazumi-chan. It's actually funny to see this kind of reaction every time I tell my true age," she said with a playful grin.

"Ah!" I let escape when a sudden thought crossed my mind.

"Yes?"

"Junko-san, are you, perhaps, older than my father?"

"I am, in fact," she said, smirking again. Her expression turned sober once more. "Though now you understand why it isn't proper to deny the marriage negotiations." She continued before I could fully process the new piece of information. I couldn't imagine Chichiue as a child, not when I thought about my own younger brother. Maybe he had been an even more serious Masaru?

I nodded, absentminded, but confusion pulled me from my imagined chibi-Tajima, scowl in place, glowering at everyone.

"But you are so beautiful, Junko-san," I interjected, not out of adulation. It was true. "Why wouldn't someone want to marry you?"

"Sometimes, when people love someone very much they do silly things," she replied. It was a non-answer again, but not something I could point at. It was clear by her vague expression that she was remembering such instance, and it wasn't a nice memory.

I thought about Hahaue's insistence that I don't train as a shinobi. I understood her fear and hesitancy, and as a woman brought up as a civilian, she probably didn't know how much damage a female shinobi was capable of doing – it brought to mind the image of Tsunade's powerful blows. In the end, it _was_ silly, even it was a mistake made out of love.

"Is something troubling you, Kazumi-chan?" Junko-san's voice averted my habit of submerging in my own thoughts and forgetting what I'm doing. Her concern was so sincere I didn't have the heart to fake a smile and tell a small lie.

"It's just… I feel so weak and powerless, seeing everyone fighting for us," I whispered, taking a sip of my already lukewarm tea, avoiding her eyes. Her chuckles made me raise my head, though; once again, her reaction wasn't the one I had been expecting.

"Such a sweet view, child," she said, resting her head in her hand and looking at me above the rim of the porcelain cup. "The shinobi who fight for such a noble goal are few and far between. The majority of them are sheep, as much as we who don't fight, even if they like to pretend otherwise. The Heads send them to kill and be killed, according to what the highest bidders want. And those are the men who _think_ they control the Clans, and they try to do so for power and wealth. After throwing their orders, they sit back and rest their hands in their big bellies, warm and well-fed."

She drained her cup in one go, but my tea was all but forgotten. I thought about what she had just said. Maybe my views _were_ naïve and skewed. For all the memories I had about the manga, for all the blood and pain I had seen imprinted in paper, they weren't mine. It was fiction, something to entertain myself with. What's more, it was a manga made for a certain public; it wouldn't deal with the dirty facts of the world. For as sick as Kishimoto could be pegged as when this world was living and breathing _his_ rules, it probably followed that he hadn't thought about the implications of his creation. And if he did, what was the matter? It _didn't exist_. So, instead of the truth, he showed us bright characters overcoming dire situations and more times than not _winning_. And I had brought that perception with me, and it was cemented by examples like Masaru.

And then, there was the fact that even if I was now part of this world, I was a toddler and I was the daughter of Uchiha Tajima. My house could be considered the safest location around in miles. I had guards and shinobi flooding the compound, prepared to eliminate any threat. I didn't even know about additional security, but I was sure Tajima was paranoid enough to have it. I had never seen the truths of this world. Like Junko said, I was sheep, even with my memories.

"But, you know, Kazumi-chan," she continued, making my attention snap to her. It was strange; she was much more relaxed, nonchalant. One more of her mood swings, I guessed. "Not the Heads or the lords, who are so sure of their own status, matter in the end. They are pieces of a major game. The true puppeteers stay hidden, in their midst, true, but playing on a whole other level."

I was riveted by her words. Power of that kind… I was human. I could feel the appeal of that kind of game. A part of me _wanted_ that, even.

"They aren't sheep, sweetheart," she almost purred, making a familiar move with her turned head. "They aren't even _animals_. They are the masters, moving everything else around, always trying to be the best, to topple the others."

She had that same craving as well… In her voice, in her too big eyes, in that not so innocent smile. A shiver ran down my spine, and I asked myself if she was talking out of personal experience, and what had happened for her to _know_ about the inner workings of a world like ours. My stomach lurched, and my mind shied away from the notion. It was too big, too much, too deep. I wasn't good enough for something like it and I would be killed faster than if I went out to fight. Even so… That treacherous, darker part of me asked: _why not?_

"Hmm… I admit I'm curious, Kazumi-chan," she continued, and I turned wide, seeking eyes to her, falling into something that snapped like a trap but felt like warm silk. "Which one will you be?"


End file.
